Summer's Darling

• Chapter Eight •

Her stomach hurts. Like it actually physically pains her. And she's changed her outfit only once before concluding she should not give a single fuck what this boy thinks about her, and that if she changes again it means she cares. And she doesn't. She can hear Mr. Stilinski in the kitchen but can't tell what he's discussing with her parents and can only really hear him chuckle. And she hears the faint voice of that boy and figures her parents are probably asking him how school and graduation went and where he's going to college and all that bullshit. She feels an anger swell up inside her. She's a shaken up soda and she's ready to explode. She checks herself in the mirror one last time, hating herself for doing so, before emerging as quietly as she can from her room. As if that will soften the blow. But when her feet finally manage to guide her to the kitchen, she's surprised to find no boy. Only adults.

She gives Mr. Stilinski a hug and he smiles widely at her.
"Stiles went out to the beach, we've been too busy unpacking and he just couldn't take it anymore." He says and her parents chuckle a little. She takes this as a hint that she's expected to join him. Instead, she pulls out a chair from the island and makes herself comfortable. Her parents exchange a look but she supposes they choose not to push her. "Excited for senior year?" Mr. Stilinski asks.
Lydia starts to pick at the snacks her mother has set out on the counter, "I'm choosing to graduate early. I start college in the fall." She loves telling people this. Seeing their reaction makes her feel so intelligent and the follow up question makes her feel even better.
"Wow, that's amazing." He says, "where will you be going?"
She beams, her life spread out before her, the only time she feels no guilt in bragging, "well I had a lot of options but for my first year I want to stay local so I'll be at Beacon University."

"That's great, maybe you and Stiles will have some classes together." And though Mr.Stilinski smiles and the adults jump into conversation about how wonderful it is there children will be at the same school, Lydia's stomach returns to pain. Deep deep pain. She eyes the back door that leads out to the beach, the boy who is probably waiting out there for her in the sand and before she can even think, she finds herself on her feet. She's walking down the steps of their back porch in an instant, cool sand hitting her toes and greeting her with the most familiar comfort. The sound of the waves envelope her, telling her everything will be okay, telling her to keep her calm.

But there he is, sitting with his knees to his chest, staring out at the blackness of the night ocean. As she approaches, she reminds herself this sea knows her better than he ever will. These are the waves that cradled her as a child, and if they tell her to stay calm, then she must obey. She sits next to him, knees to her chest as well, and she is extremely mindful to maintain a good space between them. He doesn't look over, doesn't speak, draws one finger lazily in the sand before him, creating mindless shapes there before wiping them away and starting again.
"So.." she hates how timid her voice sounds and clears her throat in an attempt to fix her tone, "you made it into college." This is as close to a congratulations as she can manage. She's happy for him, genuinely, and if certain things hadn't happened, she could see herself leaping into his arms and smothering him with kisses and dragging him to the ocean to celebrate. But this was no longer the case.

He nods, still avoiding her gaze. He looks down at the sand, back out to the ocean, the waves still scolding him for hurting its darling. "By miracle." He mutters and she can't read him. She glanced down and finds herself mimicking him, dragging her finger through the sand to create swirls before wiping them away to start over again.
"Lydia," when she looks up, he's making direct eye contact with her. Oh, she thinks, he's serious.
"Yes?"
"Can I just..." he pauses and her heart sinks to her stomach. This is the talk. "I don't want to get into it too much, if you don't want to, but I just want to put it out there that I know I fucked up. I really do know that. I was really really young when everything happened... I mean... I'm still young, but I didn't know anything about love. I still don't... but if there's anyway you could see it to slightly forgive me, I'd at the very least like to be friends... lord knows I'm going to need help on my homework." He tries to laugh a little but it nearly sounds like choking due to how nervous he is. "Actually, uhm, you don't even have to forgive me but if we could find some neutral ground.. I would really like that."
"Friends?" She asks and he nods. She nods as well, "I can ease into that." She sees his shoulders relax, "very very slowly though."
He mutters, "of course, yes, absolutely."

And that's all there is to be said.

They sit for another hour in silence, the waves crashing and spreading out before them and then retreating back to their home. This is a start, a very slow start, and no words were needed to know that it would be a long process to get back to how they were, they just both knew.

Lydia is the first to get up, her mother ushering her inside, reminding her of the late hour. She says her goodbye to Mr.Stilinski as he passes her out the back door, heading towards his son. Lydia forces herself not to look back at them.

~~~

Scott will stay with them for the rest of the summer and return back to Beacon Hills before school begins in August. This makes Stiles extremely happy and Scott can't help but note his friends change in attitude. Mr. Stilinski made sure to install a full AC unit before they officially moved in so now staying in the house is actually tolerable. No more crouching in front of the window unit. But despite this fact, Stiles forces Scott to spend most of their days on the lounge chairs on the back porch. Scott groans nearly every minute and begs Stiles at least twice an hour to go back inside but Stiles refuses. Scott, not being a complete idiot, notices the for longing glances his friend steals at the Martin household. Despite this, he still begs and pleads and complains of potential sunburn to which Stiles will respond by throwing a bottle of sunscreen his way.

The ocean beckons him but he doesn't dare. He hasn't stepped foot in that sacred water since the days since their move. He feels he doesn't have permission. Stiles eyes trail the shoreline further right and further right and further and further until his gaze is back on the Martin home.
"Did you know Napoleon was five foot six?" Scott's voice draws his eyes back to the ocean before them.
"I hate that you're studying right now." Stiles whines.
"I mean, teachers are always going on and on about how short this man was and he's only five foot six! I feel like I've been lied to."
"Scott," Stiles slouches further back in his seat. This is torture.
Scott flips through his textbook and shows his friend a picture of the man in question, "seriously, they had me thinking this guy was like four feet tall, and come to find out he's not? Why is his thing that he's short and he's not even short? Lies. All lies."
Stiles sighs, "close the book."
"Honestly, the education system in this country." Scott scoffs.
"Enough with the random facts." Stiles stands up, "let's go to town."

He doesn't have to tell Scott twice. He closes his book and excitedly leaps to his feet, abandoning his schoolwork at the thought of an adventure. What will they do? Where will they go? The duo pile into the infamous blue jeep and after a couple of tries, the vehicle rattles to life. Windows down, they sail towards town, Scott in charge of the aux and changing songs every two seconds to try to catch Stiles up on his newest discoveries. Stiles is elated, his beloved jeep finally flying down the road with the salty air rushing through its windows. This is the dream he has dreamt of since first getting the jeep (though in his dreams there was usually a strawberry blonde sitting passenger side). He doesn't mind though. Scott doesn't really care where they go, he's just happy to tag along, so when Stiles pulls into the small parking lot of an even smaller bookstore, he's actually content with his friends decision.

They hop out of the jeep, bumping shoulders and laughing the whole way in. Stiles immediately has to drag Scott away from the used textbooks section and over to non-fiction shelves where they thumb mindlessly through the novels, pulling one out occasionally to read the back before putting them back in place.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Scott says suddenly.
Stiles is genuinely confused, "what?"
Scott shrugs. He knows that Stiles knows what he means. And it doesn't take long for him to catch on.
"Oh, umm..." Stiles pulls a book off the shelf and glances at the cover, "I don't know."
"You know." Scott rolls his eyes.
Stiles nods, "yeah, I know. It's not my decision to initiate, anything. I don't want to break her boundaries and if she never wants to talk again I respect that."
Scott seems content with this answer. "I think you've learned a lot."
"Definitely. I've grown a little."
"Just a little." Scott snickers and Stiles elbows him.
"But I do miss her. A lot."

Stiles eventually allows Scott to drag him back to the textbook section after he can't find anything interesting. He ends up picking up a "college math for dummies" type book while Scott buys three different books that are absurdly thick and about lord knows what but Stiles hopes he doesn't have to find out. They leave with knowledge in hand and Stiles pauses to admire the sight of his jeep with the view of the beach and its tourists in the background. He's swooning.